Stained Black by Hate
by Filthy Warumono
Summary: The stars will cry the blackest tears tonight, and this is the moment that I live for. I can smell the night air and here I am, pouring my heart out to these people, just a shadow to the world. This is exactly what I need. . . (Chapter 9!)
1. Prologue

NOTE: I own nothing but my own creations. Yup. And I don't have a title really yet! Heeeelp meh ;_; lol.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Oh shit."  
  
The loud blare of police sirens called eerily through the night sky as the group of teenagers scattered, quickly capping their cans of spray paint and tossing their cigarettes to the street. Loud thuds were heard as a few scrambled to climb the fire escapes on the sides of the tall buildings, clearing the large dumpsters as if they were nothing. Some took off down the back alleyways, knocking over trash cans behind them with a crash. The sounds of car doors being slammed shut and the police officers demanding their halt could be heard as a few of the teenagers slid over the pavement, taking refuge underneath parked cars. It was a typical New York City night.  
  
One teenager in particular had taken off right for the other police car. He was a fairly built kid of sixteen years, but was extremely underweight - only tipping the scale at a mere one hundred twenty-eight. He stood at five-feet ten-inches, but that was with two-inch heels on his knee high, steel-toed boots. He wore a simple t-shirt over a turtleneck, decorated with safety pins along the edges - part of his own little 'style', holes cut into the sleeves so that his gloved thumbs would fit. His pants were very large and baggy, straps hanging off of the big pockets located just about everywhere. His entire ensemble was of the darkest of blacks, his ebony hair hanging just above his shoulders and falling into his dark, expressionless eyes, all of this clashing with his pale skin.  
  
Running towards the vehicle with seemingly no fear, Thomas Stryfe - or as most just called him 'Shade' - figured that the pigs would either swerve or freak.  
  
"Don't hit that kid!" The cop seated in the passenger side exclaimed, blue hues shifting towards his partner. "The last thing we need is cops running over children," he muttered.  
  
"I won't, Mark. He'll stop; no one's dumb enough to run right into a car." Or maybe he was, it didn't look as though the teen was going to stop.  
  
When the cop realized that, he slammed on his brakes and turned the wheel sharply to swerve, but didn't make it. The last of the teen they saw was a smirk cross those pale lips, and then his entire form seemed to be engulfed in the darkness.  
  
The car screeched to a halt. The officers stepped out, looking around inquisitively. There was no thud, no evidence that there had even been a kid. By now the other teens were gone; save for one that the other cops had dragged over towards the stopped car.  
  
"He's the only one we caught." Both the officers each grasped an arm, the teen kicking at their legs and yelling profanity, demanding them to let him go. Mark sighed, removing his hat and brushing a hand through his shaggy brown hair.  
  
"That's better than none, I guess." He figured it was best not to mention the disappearance of the other kid. They slapped handcuffs on the teen's wrists and shoved him into the back seat of the car, driving back to the police station as the other cops climbed into their own vehicle and followed.  
  
"Dude, he'll probably get charged for trespassing," Jaeson snickered, elbowing Damon from underneath a mini-van.  
  
"And possession of drugs, graffiti." He held out his hand, counting each on his fingertips until Jaeson smacked him in the shoulder, the both of them laughing. Loud banging echoed through the alleyway as two more jumped from the rooftops, using the dumpster as a landing dock before hopping to the street. Jaeson reached forward to pull himself out from underneath the vehicle, until a black shadow appeared before him, the holes for the eyes squinting momentarily before it took shape. It was Shade, back to his original form. Tom grinned.  
  
"God Shade, you scared the shit outta me!" Jaeson exclaimed, falling back against the metal. Damon snickered and pulled himself up.  
  
"Apparently I did the same to the cops too." Thomas added, standing to his feet. The others crowded around.  
  
"Poor Tag. Think we can bust 'em out?" Damon asked.  
  
"Eh, he'll get'm self out." Jae answered.  
  
"Dude, I've got a serious case of the munchies." Trip, a blonde tipped teen commented. "I think I'm gunna go swing by McDonalds. Anyone want anything?" Most everyone nodded and gave him an order, Trip withdrawing his keys.  
  
"Trip, we'll meet'cha down in the den." Referring to the underground drains that they had called their home, they took refuge underneath the busy city streets. Trip nodded and headed for his car, while the rest climbed through the bars down the street and shuffled through the tunnels.  
  
The inside of the drains could be considered graffiti, or it could be considered art. Bright colors overlapping, bringing solid colors to the attention of all who entered, extracting the words of gangs and perhaps sending a message through the people. One had to bring some form of light, or else it would be pitch-blank down there, save for the sparingly placed holes in the ground. It made up for pictures not hanging. Several gangs made up of mostly runaways called this their home.  
  
Jumping into a wide clearing with a slight splash, Shade led the group inside. He looked about and grinned. Finally he had been accepted, finally there was a group of people that didn't shut him out of their lives just because of what he was.  
  
Thomas Stryfe was a mutant.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Woot! Okay, it doesn't sound like fan fiction at the moment, but it will eventually lead up to when Xavier recruited him to the mansion. SO, what did ya think of it so far? Review, please! ^-^ V! 


	2. Chapter One

"What do you mean my child has the 'X' gene?!"  
  
A Paranoid mother screamed as the father stood nearby, both standing in the doctor's office with the young, black haired child cringing wide- eyed behind the doctor.  
  
"Its been proven in all of the tests, ma'am." The uniformed man flipped through his clipboard, checking off boxes with a felt tipped pen. "And the rules of the hospital are as told: no mutants allowed."  
  
So this was how it was going to be - always shunned for what he was, rather than give him a chance to prove himself. Thomas might have been only seven, but he wasn't stupid. Listening to the quarrel between his parents and the doctor only made him wonder more. His dark ebony hues glared, as he watched the shadows of the adults on the wall.  
  
"So we can't bring him here for simple check-ups anymore? What kind of a hospital are you running here?" The father exclaimed, stepping forward. The doctor sighed.  
  
"According to the rules that were passed when this establishment was built, any doctor may refuse the right to assist those in need, if so wished. Also, you can check with the head of the state. Mutants aren't accepted under any circumstances."  
  
The dark forms of the people shifted on the wall, Tom glaring intently at them. He'd better get used to this word 'mutant'. He balled his hands into fists, the shadows curling up momentarily before resuming to their natural state. Thomas' eyebrows arched.  
  
"Damnit! Well he didn't get the gene from me!" Fingers were pointed across the room as the wife gasped.  
  
"And you think I held the gene? My blood tests are just fine!"  
  
The doctor found it best not to mention the gene was actually held in the male's system most of the time. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to take this quarrel elsewhere. I have other patients that need to be seen."  
  
The two parents just stared at him, before the male grasped at the child's arm tightly, pulling him to his feet. Tom uttered a slight squeak of pain as he was rushed out of the room. The woman followed not soon after, while the doctor shook his head and set up for the next patient.  
  
Once they made their way into the parking lot, the father tossed Thomas in front of him, his rage boiling over. "Now I have to live with having a freak for a son! What the hell's the matter with you, Avi?!" His wife cringed as she hustled the kid into the car. Samuel was always the raging drunk, half the time she didn't know why she ever stayed with him.  
  
"It's not his fault, Sam! You can't-"  
  
"It's your fault, that's what it is! You had this default of a son!"  
  
Even inside the vehicle Tom could hear his parents argue. He lowered his head, watching the back of the drivers seat with little interest. He was used to putting up with his father's abusive ways, but he had a feeling that this was just the beginning of an even worse situation. After ten or so tense minutes of arguing, they stepped into the car. No words were spoken; Tom was too afraid to say a word and obviously the parents refused to speak. With an inquisitive eye, he began to play with shadow puppets on the back of the seats. He was always fond of the darkness, and being able to create creatures with his hands usually kept him sane. Making one dragon eat the rabbit, his hands creating this art before him. The car rolled along in dead silence, save for the thud that occurred when they hit over a bump in the road. When the vehicle neared the house Thomas stopped and buried his hands into his lap, but to his slight amazement the shadow elements did not cease. He smiled slightly as the figures on the back of the chair continued to play just with a mere thought.  
  
"Get in the house, Tom." Avi said, pulling open the door to the car. The child nodded and made his way to the front door, waiting for it to be unlocked. The father stepped up behind him, pulling out his house key and shoving it into the lock. He shot an evil glare to his son, before opening the door. Tom quickly bolted inside.  
  
"How about we go out tonight, Avi. It will get our thoughts off of earlier today."  
  
Avi stared at Sam, her brown eyes fixated on his features. A drink would probably do them some good, and also get them to relax slightly. She nodded.  
  
Thomas peeked around the banister to the stairs. They would probably leave him here. No matter, he had enough junk in his room to play with, and if he turned off the lights he could have an endless amount of fun, or so he thought.  
  
The woman left to get back into the car, the sooner the better. Samuel then turned to grasp the child above the elbow harshly again. "You are going to stay in here." Dragging him off to the back door he tossed him inside the garage, which was mostly used for storage. "That way you don't get into trouble while we're gone." With a laugh he turned away and locked the door behind him.  
  
Thomas stared blankly at the door. This could get to be a cold night, since it was into late Fall after all. He sat himself upon the stone floor, propping his elbows on his knees. Heck, while he was here he could play with those ever intriguing shadows some more. His black eyes shifted to watch the wall, and with a smirk he began to play out the events that happened earlier, the shadows taking the form of his parents and the doctor as he shaped his hands. Except that now it was his story, and they would do what he wanted them to do.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Thankfully after she had a few drinks she allowed him to go into his room, but now he had a routine life. He wasn't allowed out of his room except for the evening meal and his chores, and then to attend school. His father had ended up leaving them, neither the mother nor the child had heard from him since that night. His mother had become a heavy drinker and a drug addict after that, blaming everything on Thomas, of course. He was actually very thankful to go to school, he could get away from his home life.  
  
"Good morning, Thomas." His teacher greeted him as he walked into the doors of the classroom. With a mere nod Tom acknowledged her and headed for his table, which he shared with two girls and another guy. He dropped his backpack beside his chair, and then dug through it to find the folder that had the work from the day before. His classmates did the same.  
  
"Make sure your name is on the worksheet, and pass it forward." She moved to collect them all, and then began to write the day's lesson on the board.  
  
John, the other boy at Tom's table, moved to whisper to one of the girls. The children were dressed in new jeans and nice t-shirts, flannel jackets draped over their chairs. There hair was cut nicely, brushed in some extravagant style. But Thomas, he was dressed in baggy black jeans, his mom didn't want to keep buying new clothes whenever he grew so she bought big. His t-shirt had a few holes in it here and there, and his black hair was long, past his ears but above the shoulders, and it hung in his eyes. There was a large bruise above his lip, and it had obviously been busted open the night before. He glared, swearing that John was talking about him. Brushing it off, however, he did his work.  
  
It wasn't until lunchtime that chaos erupted, however. As he sat his paper bag on the table, one of the other, older children pushed him into the chair. "Look, it's that freaky kid, Thomas." His friend laughed, as Tom moved to stand. His ebony hues looked the kid down. Thomas wasn't weak; he had learned to stand up for himself when his parents wouldn't. The older child pushed him again. "What'cha gunna do?"  
  
With a small smirk Thomas fumbled behind him, grabbing at the plastic fork on the table.  
  
"People like you shouldn't be allowed to come to a public school." By now a few of the children seated at surrounding tables were watching, itching for a fight. The older child reached out, shoving Thomas backwards again. He tumbled into the table, knocking a tray to the floor. The lunchroom supervisor glanced over.  
  
"Knock it off, children."  
  
"Yeah, Thomas, knock it off." They mocked, as snickers floated through the room. Tom glared. He wasn't much of a big talker. The bully laughed and turned to eat. Talk began to spread the room once more until the older kid fell forward, crashing into the table, causing other kids to jump. He turned quickly only to look into the dark eyes of Thomas. He threw a punch, but Tom countered by bringing the fork up, snapping it in half but it served its purpose. The youngster now had a slight gash across his hand. He screamed and swung again, knocking Tom to the floor. The teacher ran over immediately.  
  
"Stop it, I'm going to call both of your parents." She bent to help Tom to his feet, but he brushed her off and moved quickly to hit the bully again. John, who was watching for a while now, moved quickly to grab Tom around the waist. The older kid recoiled and brought his balled fist to the side of Tom's face, while the teacher moved to pull John off of Tom and another entered the room and made haste towards the fight. Thomas muttered something under his breath before reaching out a hand, and a dark looming shadow crawled from his fingertips, bleeding unto the floor. John gasped and let go, sending him and the teacher to the floor. The bully screamed again as the black abyss spread, creeping its way across the floor and up the walls, soon engulfing the entire lunchroom into blackness. 


	3. Chapter Two

Apparently, going home after that day hadn't been one of Tom's better ideas.  
  
As he pushed the front door open his dark eyes moved towards his mother, who sat on one of the couches in the living room. On the table beside her sat a bottle of alcohol. No matter, she was usually drinking by the time he came home anyway. He quietly shut the door behind him without a word. Tom then slung his backpack further over his shoulders and made his way to the stairs without even acknowledging her. However when he touched the first stair, he heard his mother's voice call for him.  
  
"Thomas, get your ass in here."  
  
He flinched, dropping his bag with a thud before turning on his heel and leaning on the living room's doorframe. His watched tiredly, waiting to see what she had in store for him. Obviously the principal did call his house, as she had promised.  
  
She rose from the couch, a glazed look in her eyes as she walked over towards Tom. Her hand grasped his chin, bringing it up so that she could look into his eyes. "Tell me, how hard is it to keep from everybody that you're different?" Her eyes were cold as was her touch. Tom said nothing. "What, do you parade around with a giant sign that reads 'I have the 'X' gene'? Why can't you just act normal, and allow me the pleasures of a normal child?!" She let go of his face, turning her back to him. "It's because of you that your father left. And because of you people are afraid to date me! They think that I carry your disease."  
  
Tom just watched blankly, he had heard this 'I need a man' speech a hundred times. He was also used to being blamed for her problems. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. As she turned back to face him, he wasn't prepared for the oncoming blow that struck his face. He fell to the floor with a cry, slinking back immediately to the wall. "It wasn't my fault!" He answered. "You think it's easy being different? I'm always getting messed with!" Before he could complain more, she struck him again.  
  
"You're lying," she hissed. "It's never your fault, according to you." Tom whimpered and pressed himself further against the wall, any further and he would have smushed himself through it. She grasped at his collar and pulled him to his feet. "And this! You have no respect for anybody! Not even the decency to stand when someone's talking to you. I bet you treat your teachers like that too, am I right?"  
  
Tom's eyes swayed towards the ground, bringing his shoulders up as though he was trying to engulf himself in his own body, his hands brought up slightly to protect himself from any more hits. He opened his mouth to respond, but she shoved him to the floor and dropped to her knees beside him, pressing his wrists down unto the ground with one hand. He squeaked in pain and confusion as she leaned in closer to speak, he could smell the drink on her breath. "Well here's a lesson for you: answer when spoken to."  
  
Tom fought to get his hands free, but being only a child she had quite a grip on him, and her other hand went to thrashing him repeatedly. He kicked out, trying to throw her off balance in hopes of being able to move his arms, but failed. The blows kept coming, and he could do nothing but take the hits until she was satisfied. Finally she stopped the onslaught, tears streaming down his youthful face. She got up and her eyes were full of hatred. This wasn't the loving, caring mother he once knew to protect him from his father, in fact it seemed she had taken up his father's tactics and blown them to the extremities. She stepped back to the couch; Tom crumpled on the floor as she returned to the couch and only turned the volume up on the television.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
The next day at school Tom wore long sleeves to cover the multiple bruises that decorated his arms. His right cheek was slightly swollen, and on his wrists were marks where she had grasped him so tightly. He dropped his stuff beside his desk and fell into his chair, placing his head upon his arms as the teacher moved to collect the work from the day before. She stopped at Tom's table, grabbing John's and the girl's papers before eyeing him.  
  
"Thomas, where's your work from yesterday?" Only a muffled sound came from him. She crossed her arms. "Did you finish it? I swear I saw you working on it." Her hand moved to pull him up lightly by the shoulder, but he moved quickly to the side and waved his own hand.  
  
"I don't got it." How wonderfully oblivious teachers could be sometimes. She blinked, watching him a few moments more before moving to the next table. She then moved to pass out a new worksheet to the class. She explained the new strategy, and they went right to work.  
  
Tom's pencil scratched into the paper. He wasn't answering the questions, just scribbling off to the side. John's hand went up into the air.  
  
"Ms. Gallagher, I've a question." When she nodded at him, he placed his hand back upon the desk. "What's a mutant?"  
  
The room got silent, as Tom shot a deadly glare towards Jonathan. The teacher cleared her throat. "Well, it depends, really. To mutate is to change, so a mutant would be something that is different from what it usually would be."  
  
John nodded. "So Tom, he's supposed to be like us, right? But he's not."  
  
Ms. Gallagher sighed. "Please, questions about your work only."  
  
The rest of the class resumed finishing their worksheets as Tom stared John down. John smirked, as he too began to finish his work up. Now one of the girl's hands went up.  
  
"Yes, Julie?"  
  
"Aren't mutants banned from attending public schools?"  
  
Tom slammed his pencil down and shoved his chair backwards, standing. The teacher's eyes moved to him. "Tom, please take your seat."  
  
By now Tom was tired of what little respect he ever received. He turned, narrowing his eyes at her. "Why? So I can get harassed some more?" She shook her head and moved to say something, but Tom interrupted. "I am so tired of this shit!"  
  
The class gasped, to hear a seven year old boy say that word was a big deal. The teacher stood as well. "Thomas Stryfe! I'm going to have the principal call your mother again! Go stand out in the hallway."  
  
"Fine, I don't care! Don't care about you, about this school, nothing! I don't give a damn!" Tom yelled back, as he stormed out of the classroom. The class was dead silent as they waited for what the teacher had to say about it. She calmly picked up the telephone and contacted the principal.  
  
"Yes, I think you may need to come get him. . . He's in the hallway, thank you."  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Once the classroom door was shut behind him Tom fell upon the tiled floor, bringing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his hands. Not only was home hell, but now the school would no longer be his sanctuary. Thoughts flooded his head. It wasn't like he asked to be born with this ability. He never asked for his father to be a raging drunk, his mother to fall apart after his disappearance, the other students to shun him, the teachers to cast their eyes elsewhere. Why couldn't he just be treated with the same amount of kindness the other kids got? Tom didn't even bother to look up when he heard footsteps clack on the hard floor, his eyes watching as a pair of brown boots stopped near him.  
  
"Thomas? Come with me to the office." When no movement was made from the child, he reached down to tug on his arm. "I'm serious, we need to talk." Still nothing. The guy sighed and grasped underneath of the child's arms, hoisting him to his feet. Tom, refusing to walk, nearly had to be dragged the entire way to the office. As the doors were pushed open, Tom could feel the eyes upon him. He was then sat in a red chair. His dark hues watched as a new pair of shoes approached him, this time those of a female.  
  
"Alright, you wanna tell me what's going on?"  
  
Tom glanced upward, only to meet the eyes of the principal. She gasped slightly when she saw the bruises decorating his face. She kneeled, bringing her soft fingers to probe at his cheek. Tom winced and pulled away, bringing his feet up to the chairs edge. "Did a student do these? Is this from yesterday's fight?" Tom shook his head slightly. She then looked slightly concerned and alerted the nurse. When she stepped into the room, she smiled. "Alright, Mrs. Kildreff here is going to take a look at you. Don't worry; we just want to make sure nothings wrong."  
  
Yeah, nothing was wrong. He was only covered in blemishes just about everywhere, and he didn't even know this lady. She ended up dragging him into the nurse's office anyway despite his attempts to convince them that he was alright.  
  
Mrs. Kildreff smiled again, motioning towards the table. "If you'll remove your shirt and sit there, I'll get to you in a moment." She began to wash her hands in a basin, but when she turned around she was disappointed that Tom was still clothed in his turtleneck. She sighed. "Thomas, if you want me to help, you're going to have to take your shirt off."  
  
He shook his head. "I'm fine."  
  
She smiled and placed a cloth over ice upon his cheek. "Will you at least tell me where this came from then?"  
  
His lips were pressed closed. Mrs. Kildreff shook her head. "Tom, I need you to talk to me."  
  
He blinked, before turning his head away. "I got in a fight, alright? I don't need anyone fussing over me." Mrs. Kildreff laughed slightly and pulled the cloth away.  
  
"Alright, but there is something that I meant to do yesterday." She withdrew a needle from the cabinet, dabbing the tip in a cotton ball wet with alcohol. Tom's eyes widened and he scooted to the edge of the table. "According to the papers you and your parents signed upon entering this school, we are allowed to draw blood if we wish for medical purposes."  
  
Tom shook his head. "Don't touch me."  
  
"Tom, we've been told by the government that we need to run a blood test on you. If you let us do it, then you won't have to go to an actual doctor."  
  
Thomas narrowed his eyes. He wasn't allowed to go see a doctor. Guess he had no choice in the matter but to have the nurse do what she wished. He sighed as she pulled up his long sleeves, she seemed only slightly surprised from the bruises.  
  
"Must have been some fight eh, Tom?" She then pressed the needle to his skin, Tom crying out slightly as it pricked him. He then winced as she commenced withdrawing a small amount of blood. It felt like his nerves were being pinched. "All done. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"  
  
Tom pulled his sleeve down harshly and jumped from the table. "Can I go home now?" The nurse gave him a slight glare.  
  
"Well, school's not out yet." She turned to place the needle upon the counter. "Besides, I want you to have a seat until we get the results back."  
  
Tom sighed and fell into one of the chairs in the office, leaving the Nurse to her own business. The adult behind the desk eyed him momentarily before returning to her paperwork. This could be a long day. 


	4. Chapter Three

It seemed like hours had passed as young Thomas sat, staring blankly out the office window at the parked cars in the lot, the busses pulling in and the children piling onto the vehicle. Others were greeted with a happy hug from their parents, who with a smile had come to take them home. Not soon after the busses had pulled away, the parked cars gone. School was over, and now the only thing left in the day for Tom was to go home. Which he wasn't looking forward to.  
  
"Alright, Thomas, I'm done. I've wrote a note, since you've probably got no homework due to the fact that you were out of class." She folded up a piece of paper, tucking it away into Tom's pocket. "Take that to your mom, would you? Okay, I'd say you can go now. See you tomorrow?" She smiled, ushering Tom out the door.  
  
He sighed, deciding to return to his classroom to grab his backpack. As he stepped inside, Ms. Gallager shot him a quick glance. He blinked his dark eyes, before moving to silently grab at his stuff. Without so much as a goodbye, he left again.  
  
The streets were quiet, which was unusual. Of course, he never really did leave school this late so maybe that was the reason. Kids were already back at home. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he took slow steps home, his black hues watching the sidewalk. He really wasn't looking forward to going home. Thoughts began crossing his mind as the sound of driving cars could be heard in the distance. What if he didn't go home? After all, it wasn't like he was picked up by his mom; she had to wait until he walked through the door in order to do anything. He contemplated this a moment, not paying any attention to his surroundings. No, she would find out. She'd come get him, somehow. The cops. She would call the cops and they would come searching. But. . .  
  
He was a mutant. He could hide in the daylight's shadows just as easily as any child playing hide-and-go-seek in the dark could. It was as simple as willing the darkness to camouflage his form. He couldn't explain it, that was just how things happened with him. A harsh honk from a car horn pulled Tom back into reality as he fell off the sidewalk curb with a squeak and hit the pavement. He stood, brushing himself off and giving a quick look-over at his hands and knees before picking his backpack up and swinging it over his shoulder. He then heard voice from across the street.  
  
"Hey, Thomas!" Ebony hues would move to glare across the way, only to lock upon those of the fifth grade bully. He sighed deeply and resumed walking down his own side of the street. "Hey, munchkin! We're playing football, wanna join?"  
  
Sure, the offer sounded nice. But Tom knew it was too good to be true, after all he barely knew this guy. So he kept his head down and didn't say a word. But his ignoring game didn't last long, as he was soon met by the kids.  
  
"You know, people are right. You really don't listen." A wave of giggles washed over the trio. "Must be those mutie ears of yours. Clogged up with your black goo."  
  
Tom again sighed, shaking his head. He tried to push though, but a bigger hand pressed to his chest and shoved him to the grass. As he looked up a ball was tossed into his lap, somewhat forcefully. He winced slightly. "Come on, play!" The kids urged. He stood, shoving the ball right back at the bully.  
  
"I have to go home."  
  
The kids laughed. "What for? So you can play with your little whatever-it-is you play with? Do you even play? What is play, Thomas?" They taunted him, snickering the entire time. Tom just pushed through them, keeping his head down. "Oh, that's right. He can't play football. If he even got good at it, they wouldn't let him on a team anyway. He's a freak."  
  
Tom continued down the street, with the chants of 'No mutant's allowed' behind him. Eventually he arrived at his house, only remembering his idea of running away after he stepped in the doorway. The wood clicked behind him.  
  
"Where the hell have you been?!" His mother cried, storming after him. He hadn't even been home five minutes and already he was the center of her anger. He fell upon the door, dropping his bag to the floor.  
  
"School kept me after a while, mom. I've got a note i-. . ."  
  
As he fumbled for the paper in his pocket his mother tore it out of his hands, shreading it to pieces in front of him. "How do I know you or some friend didn't just write it?" She sneered.  
  
How could she know? Well if she had opened it she would have seen it wasn't his handwriting, that and he had no friends to forge a note even if he wanted one to. Tom's vision swayed to the ground. "The nurse took some blood tests today. . ."  
  
"For what?" She asked, brows quirking. "I'm sure the entire school knows what the hell you are already! God damnit, Thomas, what did you do this time?" Before he could answer she gripped him tightly by the shoulder, Tom crying out slightly as she shoved him through the kitchen. "Get your ass downstairs. Wait, before you do that, clean up this mess." She gestured to the shredded paper on the floor, moving back to the couch. He quickly went to work scooping up the pieces as she took yet another drink of her usual bottle of alcohol.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Entering the classroom the next day, Tom was met by something he was not expecting. The principal greeted him at the doorway, a worried expression on her face. He shot confused glances at the teacher, as he felt the entire classroom's eyes upon him.  
  
"Thomas, I'm afraid I've got some news for you. Come with me to the office, please." Tom shook his head, uttering a small 'Hm mm.' She glared. "That wasn't a request." Tuning on her heels, she headed out of the room, expectant of Tom to follow her. Tom frowned. The day hadn't even started and he was already in trouble! He quietly moved after her.  
  
"Can I at least put my stuff down?"  
  
There was no answer. As they walked into the office, she motioned for him to have a seat in front of her desk. "Listen, Thomas. It's not that we don't like you, because. . ." She paused, clearing her throat. "Well anyway, I'm afraid we have to . . . you can't go to this school."  
  
Tom stared blankly at her a moment, taking in what she said. "How come?"  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "Because the state law founded for this school says that no mutants can attend, whether dangerous or not. They're a threat to our society." Her fingers found a pen on the desk, and she dug it into the wood as she spoke. "We had hoped it wasn't true after the lunch room incident, so we took blood to make sure. But the tests came back positive."  
  
Tom gaped. "But . . . it's not like anybody can catch it! Where am I supposed to go to school at?"  
  
She withdrew some papers from a folder. "Here, as a religiously backed institution we are within our legal right to deny - for any reason whatsoever - a student who is in conflict with our other students. And mutantcy conflicts with our religious beliefs!" She was getting irritated with him, he was stalling. Truth be told, she had the head of state coming today and she didn't want any problems, which is all Tom was as of late. "Now please, just head home. I'll call your mom later to explain."  
  
But she didn't need to tell him that. He was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him. She sighed again. "Damned mutants." She spoke under her breath, the assistant principal nodding as well. "The world would be a much better place without them." 


	5. Chapter Four

"I'm so tired of everything!"  
  
It felt really weird to be walking home in the morning. But then again, everything felt really weird. The fact that he was kicked out of school at age seven, the fact that his parents had separated because of him, the fact that he could bend darkness at his very fingertips. Nothing seemed right anymore. 'Why can't some other kid be lucky and have this stupid ability, not me.' Yes, it was a bad thought, this could be happening to some other child. But Tom was just so sick of being looked down upon, he didn't really care at the moment. As long as things were back the way they used to be between him and his family, his teachers, his classmates.  
  
Rather than taking a turn at the corner of the street which led to his house, Tom paused. He instead kept on moving, coming up on the city park. It was unoccupied at the moment, nothing but a few squirrels and birds romping about. Good. Tom trudged up the path, stepping off into the grass. He then dropped his bag, watching a few of the contents spill out.  
  
Thud. Ebony hues were now watching the clear blue sky, not a cloud was to spoil the brilliant artwork. He lay sprawled out, the soft green grass tickling his face and bare arms. He wiggled his booted feet slightly, a small smile playing upon his pale lips. If only he could just lay like this forever and not have to worry about anything. Life seemed so much simpler when you were just watching the animals. He closed his eyes momentarily. In no real hurry to go home, he decided that he would just sit and listen to the nature play games for right now.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
The next time he opened his black eyes it was clearly evident that time had passed him by. The once clear sky was now painted shades of violet and the clouds were foaming over the stars. . . Stars? Tom immediately jumped to his feet, quickly stuffing his junk back into his bag. He was going to get it now, first kicked from school and now showing up at home far later than he should! Had his mother even worried about him? Probably not. Perhaps she'd only wondered where her beating tool had gone of to. No matter now, because Tom hurriedly pulled the straps up over his shoulders and jogged on home.  
  
Upon reaching his door breathlessly he scooted inside. His eyes quickly scanned to find his mom, but she was no where in sight. That was a good thing. Maybe she had gone out drinking tonight. But no, her car was in the driveway. Perhaps she'd gone with a friend? Or maybe a new man that she was after. Tom huffed as he moved through the living room dropping his backpack behind him, but he didn't get very far. Seated at the kitchen table was indeed, his mother. That was surprising, he was sure she'd be screaming at him the moment he had stepped through the door. He blinked.  
  
"Thomas, where were you?"  
  
The evil was hidden in her voice, it actually sounded somewhat sympathetic. Tom's black brows arched. "I fell asleep at the park," he answered truthfully.  
  
She moved from the chair, the wood scraping across the tiled floor. Tom took a backwards step. "I was really worried about you." Tom shook his head. Seriously? "After yesterday I thought you would just leave. . . I'm so glad you didn't."  
  
At this point, Tom was lost. She didn't want to kill him - instead she kneeled before him, her hands caressing his face slightly. He pulled away at first, frightened. This wasn't like her. But maybe she was actually worried. Maybe she did care. Come to think of it, his soul ached just to be hugged by his mother. He allowed himself to fall forward into her arms, her hands pulling him in close.  
  
"No matter what, Thomas, I'll always love you."  
  
He sniffed slightly. "Did school call, mum?" She might love him, but he was sure that it wouldn't be for long, not after she heard the news of today. She nodded.  
  
"Yes. But we can find you another school. One where people don't know you yet and you can start over." She stood, ushering Tom back towards the couch.  
  
Start over? This was way too much for young Tom to understand right now. No doubt this was what he had wanted, but there was just no possible way any of it could be true. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his bag and landing in a seated position on the couch. His mother followed not soon after, taking a seat beside him. She placed her hand on his leg.  
  
"You love me, don't you?"  
  
Silence. Really, Tom didn't know how he should answer that. Could somebody really love their parents after all the crap that he'd been through?  
  
"Yes."  
  
A smile crossed his mom's lip as she bent forward, bringing her face ever so close to Thomas'. "And I love you too, so do me a favor."  
  
Her hands moved to grasp at his, pulling them above and behind his head. She then shifted so that her right hand held both his wrists, her left hand moving to press him into the couch on his back. Tom squeaked slightly in confusion as she then placed her knees around his waist to prevent him from moving. "You are my son, and should therefore have no shame around me. Let me see something."  
  
That in itself didn't sound good, but really Tom was in a position not to fight. When her hand moved down his chest to graze at his pants, pulling apart the button and slipping the zipper down, something dawned on him. What, he didn't know, but he did know that he didn't want this. He struggled, attempting to pull away from her grasp, until her hand slipped into his pants and boxers, gripping him firmly. His eyes went wide as he cried out slightly. She lowered her head down to his and spoke very quietly into his ear.  
  
"You move, you die."  
  
Her voice was like ice, it sent chills to the bone. He froze, scared and confused. She had just been so nice earlier! He knew it was too good to be true. Her hand went to work quickly, undoing her own undergarments and pressing herself to her son. She grinded her hips back and forth, her stronger hands holding Tom still. It didn't take long to get Tom erect, as he tried to pull away with a cry. That resulted in a harsh smack across his face that brought tears to the corners of his eyes.  
  
"You brought this upon yourself child," she hissed. "I can't get any pleasure from any men that I date because you always have to interfere! So, what else is a boy good for? I want sex; I'm going to have sex."  
  
She then dove upon Tom hungrily, forcing him inside of her. At this point, Thomas was terrified. He had no idea what she was doing to him, and decided that he didn't care what she would do about his actions. He just knew that he did not want this.  
  
Tom screamed.  
  
She again thrashed him, all the while pumping her hips forcefully. But that didn't stop him from crying out. "Shut the hell up!" She yelled at him, her hand swinging many times more. He screamed again, pulling at his arms until it felt as though they were going to be ripped from their socket. He managed to wiggle a hand free, which blindly went to work attempting to push her away from him. He hit, and he knew it was hard because it left a stinging feeling in his wrist. She cursed under her breath and gripped his hands so tightly that it cut the circulation.  
  
Tom couldn't think straight. His vision was blurred by the tears that were falling, her free hand diving towards and away as he felt each and every blow. His hands were cold and numb, and no matter how hard he tried to turn or pull himself away it proved useless. His mind burned, as did his body. He again cried out, unable to control the reactions that he was having. All he wanted was for this to end.  
  
Seemed his thoughts had been answered. The door was kicked open and several police officers burst in, pistols aimed and ready, demanding that she release the child. She immediately pulled herself away, standing to her feet pleading, trying to prove her innocence even though they had just witnessed it themselves. Two of the officers then began to question her. The last officer turned, looking over at the child.  
  
Tom was a wreck - he had backed up to the end of the couch, his knees brought up to his chest as he buried his head in his arms. He moved closer to Thomas, chanting reassuring words the entire time as he moved to comfort him. Tom pulled away, however. "Don't come near me!" He cried. The officer extended a hand.  
  
"We're here to help you, not hurt you. You won't be hurt now." Tom shook his head and pressed himself further against the cushions. "We're going to need you to answer some questions though. You want to answer some questions for me?" Again Tom shook his head. The officer shot a look at one of the other cops, and she came over as well.  
  
"Listen. We're going to make sure that your mother doesn't do this to you or anyone again, but in order for us to do that you're going to have to cooperate." She leaned in and wrapped him up in a warm hug despite what he thought. She knew that sometimes people needed to just let their emotions flow before they did anything, and she was good with that. The male officer went to talk to the mother, leaving Tom to calm down in the police woman's arms. Tom just buried his head and cried. 


	6. Chapter Five

"It seems that one of your neighbors heard your screams and called 911. It's a good thing too, we came just in time."  
  
The officer laughed slightly as Tom sighed. He didn't find any of this amusing, and the fact that he had been seated in this boring office for over an hour answering the same questions over and over was ruining his already displeased mood.  
  
"So. . . was your mother always this way to you? Did she usually beat you?" The cop leaned in closer as he questioned him. God, Tom was sick of this. He slammed his hands upon the wooden desk.  
  
"The answer is still the same! Nothing's going to change no matter how many times you ask it! They're - all - the same!" Thomas annunciated the last sentance with a deadly tone, practically hissing it through clenched teeth. The officer sighed and pushed quickly away from the small table, stepping out to leave Tom alone in the ever quiet room.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
It wasn't too much later when again Tom was seated in the passenger's seat of a police car, staring blankly out the window watching the scenery float by. Oh, how he really didn't care to live right now. The same female cop from before was driving, and she cleared her throat before speaking.  
  
"Thomas, I've got some good news. Your mother is going behind bars."  
Yay. Finally someone put that woman where she belonged. His eyes didn't waver from watching the outside, however.  
  
"Unfortunately, we couldn't get a hold of your father. Nobody has any idea where he might be either. So we've decided on placing you in an adoption home until we can find a pair of foster parents to take care of you. How's that sound?"  
  
She turned to look at his small form momentarily, noticing as he shifted slightly in his seat. She offered a small smile, but he never turned. Only a small 'Mmm.' was his response. This transfer she knew was going to be a hard one, but this kid seemed as though he was ruined for life. Maybe he was. Her lithe fingers rummaged through a pile of papers on her lap as they paused at a stop light. "I'm going to need you to be on your best behavior as I introduce you to the people that run this center, alright?" Still no answer. She sighed and shook her head, pulling up to a rather large building and turning off the engine. Motioning for Tom to get out, she headed up the stairs as he followed her inside.  
  
"Hello Mrs. Gillwen, I'm Officer Natale, we discussed bringing by young Thomas here."  
  
Tom's black hues moved to peer around the cops legs, eyeing the ever plump woman who stood before them with a rather wide grin plastered upon her face. She kneeled before him offering a small hug, but he refused. She only smiled wider. "Seems he's a little shy. Boy, he certainly is older than I had suspected." Both the women laughed. Natale bent to urge Tom over towards the living quarters where several other young kids stood, wide-eyed and interested.  
  
"Why don't you go acquaint yourself with the other children?" Despite the fact that he practically clung to her leg and refused to move, she managed to push him over towards the other boys and girls. With a nod she turned back towards Mrs. Gillwen, handing her the paperwork and talking about what seemed to be important matters.  
  
Thomas blinked as he shoved his hands into his pocket, scanning over the kids before glancing to the floor. From the looks of them most of the children were between the ages of two and five. Well didn't that just work out dandy? Tom, being a whole two and a half years older then decided that he would just have to hang out with himself and the shadows. It wasn't like he wasn't used to the darkness anyway.  
  
The door shut quietly as Officer Natale left. Tom turned to watch as her car pulled out of a parking spot, before nearly jumping out of his skin as Mrs. Gillwen placed her round fingers on his shoulders. She chuckled.  
  
"My my, so jumpy Thomas. Let me show you where you'll be bunking for the time being, and then I'll explain some of the rules of the household. Oh, and one major thing - no fighting."  
  
Already Tom hated this. He groggily shuffled up the stairs, anything Mrs. Gillwen spoke to him went through one ear and out the other. At least he wasn't sharing a room with any babies, he thought.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
'Already it's been four full days, and I don't know any of the children's names. It's not that I'm stupid; it's that I don't care. None of them are my age, and I feel so strange hanging out with them. Staying in my room and playing with my shadow puppets and a few new toys Mrs. Gillwen bought me has been the only thing keeping me un-bored.'  
  
Tom sighed as he tossed the paper aside after scribbling on it. Lying on his stomach, feet hanging off the edge of his bed, pillow propped up underneath his chin, he really was quite comfortable. Tom just stared at the opposite wall, wondering how long he was going to live like this. When he heard Mrs. Gillwen's cheery voice ring up the stairs calling all kids for dinner he pouted, rolling off the bed. That was one of few things he enjoyed - he got to eat more than once a day.  
  
Taking slow steps to descend the stairs he was quite surprised when he reached the bottom floor. He blinked, tilting his head to observe this new person. It was a she, and a bit taller than he was as well, blonde hair falling to her waist pulled away from her face with a purple headband. She wore a matching T-shirt and blue jeans, but none of that really mattered. What Tom immediately thought was that she was around his age, and could be a friend to talk to.  
  
After getting her plate of supper she tuned, flashing a bright smile towards Tom. Seemed she was happy to see an older child as well. Stepping close, she extended a hand as she had seen the adults often do. "Hi, I'm Christina. Who're you?"  
  
Tom stared at her hand before lightly taking it to shake. How formally odd that felt. . . "Thomas. . ." He managed a small, shy smile, before taking a seat next to her to eat.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
After dinner they talked quite a bit, learning about the likes and dislikes of one another. She was eight years old, just had her birthday last month. And she wasn't new, just turned out that Tom hadn't gotten out enough to run into her before. They laughed and wandered the household together, poking fun at each other.  
  
"So, did your real mommy and daddy die too?" Christina asked, placing her hands behind her as they walked towards the basement where hoards of toys were stored. Tom shook his head.  
  
"No, I don't know what happened to my dad, and my mom. . . well, she's not around." He turned to eye her, hands in his pockets as usual. His black brows arched. "Yours are dead?"  
  
She nodded. "I was at my Auntie's and she told me that they got into an 'axi-dent.' My Auntie didn't have enough money to take care of me so she sent me here." She grinned. "But it's not bad here. Mrs. Gillwen is really really nice, and whenever new parents come to look for a kid we all dress up really nice and smile really big. Mrs. Gillwen says I have a nice smile so I'll get picked soon."  
  
Tom's eyes went wide. "People buy us, like a pet?"  
  
Christina laughed. "No, silly. They adopt us, and become our new mommy and daddy."  
  
He blinked, slightly confused. "Oh, I see."  
  
She laughed again, tugging on his hand. "Come on, I've got lots of cool stuff to show you!" 


	7. Chapter Six

Three weeks had passed of this routine life. Wake up, have breakfast, play around, have a snack, do some school work, have dinner, go to bed. It really got boring after a while, and the fact that whenever a new couple came to adopt a child they always took the younger ones didn't help. After all, wouldn't a parent want the enjoyment of raising a child from the beginning, and not when seven years of their life had already passed?  
  
"Come on Thomas, another couple is here!"  
  
Tom's black eyes opened slowly, narrowing as he gazed at the clock. It was only eight o'clock in the morning. He made a face as he rolled out of his bed and fell onto the floor with a slight thud. Christina laughed and pulled him up to his feet. "Come on," she urged, tugging on his arm. "Get dressed!"  
  
Tom muttered something and pushed her out of his room, shutting the door behind her. He sighed, turning as he reluctantly pulled off his pajamas and dressed himself in black jeans and a matching turtleneck. His attire actually fit him, and it wasn't all holed up for once. He bent to pull his black boots on, stomping his foot a few times to secure the shoe before he moved to walk out of his room and down the stairs.  
  
The pair today seemed a newlywed couple, the cliché blonde-haired blue-eyed kind. They gazed over the children with wide smiles present as Christina and Tom came down, Tom leaning against the wall as Tina took a seat on the floor. Mrs. Gillwen was already running that mouth of hers, explaining to the couple each and every child's attributes. Seemed they already favored a young blonde-haired child. Go figure.  
  
After they was sure which kid they wanted, the rest of the children got to their feet and began to exit the living room Mrs. Gillwen presented the new parents with a pile of paper work. Christina pouted.  
  
"We're too old. We might not get picked for a while, you know."  
  
Tom nodded, crossing his arms. "Yeah, and then we'll be even older so we really won't be picked."  
  
Tina laughed. "I heard that some people like teens better anyway."  
  
"No way, do you know how long we'd be here until we were teenagers? That's like. . ." Tom paused, counting on his fingers. "I dunno, six years, kinda." He smiled slightly. "I for sure don't want to hang out here for six years. I'd run away first."  
  
Christina's eyes went wide as they migrated towards the basement once more, their usual hang out spot. She flicked the lights on with a quick swing of her wrist. "You'd run away? Why? You'd be all by yourself."  
  
Actually, Thomas hadn't really thought about that. It just sort of poured from his mouth before he realized what he was saying. But now that it was said, it did seem like a possibility. After all, who was to stop him? Maybe Mrs. Gillwen would come looking, but big deal. She'd have to return eventually to take care of the other kids. Tom was sure he could live on his own. "It'd be better than sitting around here all day." He shrugged, but Christina had suddenly dived forward and hugged him before he could say anymore.  
  
"You can't leave! Then I'll be lonely again. . ." Tom's eyes were wide, he wasn't expecting that. He awkwardly placed his arms around her to return the hug, replying in a near whisper.  
  
"If I was gunna run away, I'd take you with me."  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
The next day was the same as usual, up until dinner time. Thomas and Christina had spent the majority of the day in the basement, which really wasn't any different than any other day except that this time they were planning. After all, what child didn't dream of running away at some point of their life? They had decided that they would leave after the younger kids were busy getting ready for bed, that way Mrs. Gillwen would be stuck tucking them in. They now stood in the doorway, gazing out into the black night.  
  
"You ready?"  
  
Christina nodded as she pulled her backpack up over her shoulders. "Of course."  
  
With those simple words, they left. Simply walked right out the door, taking small steps down the street. Well, this seemed easy. So easy in fact, that after they had walked at least five blocks they started giggling and holding a conversation. They thought for sure they would have been caught.  
  
"Cool! So, where're we off to?" Tina had a bounce in her step as she moved wide-eyed and excited down the street. Tom shrugged as he continued along quietly. He was practically flowing from the shadows in the road due to the street lights. Tina laughed. "So, we just keep going until we find someplace neat to stay?"  
  
"I dunno."  
  
"Well, you didn't plan this very well, did you?"  
  
Tom smirked slightly. "We don't need any plans." And that was all. They moved quietly through the city, ignoring any strange looks they were receiving from the passer Byers in cars wondering why a couple of children were out so late.  
  
After a few hours Thomas plopped down underneath a tree in a silent park, Tina following suit not long after. "So, we gunna sleep here or what?" God, girls asked a lot of questions.  
  
"Sure."  
  
They both were quiet for a moment before Tom glanced up, locking his ebony hues with bright blue ones. "Uhm, Chrissy? I gotta tell you something."  
  
Oh great, thought Christina. He was backing out of their plans already. She rolled her eyes and stared back at him. "Like . . .?"  
  
"Ehh. . . the real reason why I left. . . I don't think Mrs. Gillwen likes me much." His vision swept the ground before him as his fingers played around in the grass. Tina cocked her head.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"'Cause I'm different. The teachers at my old school hated me for it too."  
  
Christina scooted over in the grass until she was sitting next to him, crossing her legs and sitting Indian-style. "Well everybody's different. Why would she hate just you?"  
  
Tom sighed. "I have this thing . . . that I can do and other people can't. The doctor called it a 'mutation'." He sniffed slightly, hoping that he wasn't getting a stuffy nose from being outside. He lifted his hands out before him, palms facing the starry sky. Slowly a small lizard seemed to be born in his hands, only it was just the silhouette of one. It crawled down his arm, black tail swaying as Tina stared in amazement. "See, I can control the dark. I can make it do whatever I want it to."  
  
Christina was speechless for the moment. She had never before seen anything remotely close to what she was watching now, and she was confused. After a moment or two she regained her voice. "That's . . . neat."  
  
Tom blinked, drawing his attention to her. "Really? You don't think I'm scary or something?"  
  
She laughed. "No! That's cool, nobody can do that!"  
  
He smiled as he opened his mouth to say something back, but he was instead interrupted by the sound of a man coming up behind them.  
  
"What are you kids doing out here? Where are your parents?"  
  
They both turned only to have their vision fall upon an officer as he made his way closer. The shadow lizard fled around Tom's shoulders before disappearing, the cop staring wide-eyed. Was he seeing things? With a shake of his head he kneeled before them. "Tell me."  
  
Now was Tom's turn to be at a lack of words, and really Christina wasn't any better. They both stuttered until Tina managed to explain.  
  
"We were just out walking. Our Nanny said we could."  
  
The officer laughed as he pulled the both of them to their feet. "Well, it's way past your curfew. Now why don't you tell me where you live and I'll give you a ride back home?"  
  
Tom pressed his pale lips together and shook his head. He had been inside enough cop cars and really didn't want to ride in another, and besides, he didn't want to go back. Christina obediently climbed into the backseat, but when the officer reached for his sleeve Tom winced, pulling himself away. He felt the cops fingers wrap around his arm and then . . . let go? No, Tom had somehow disappeared through his grip, the cop still standing with a clenched fist. Tom's jaw dropped as the officer blinked, moving with both arms to grab at the kid. This time he felt his large hands wrap securely around his waist, but again the cop was left standing empty-handed as Thomas stumbled backwards through the cop's hold and into the grass.  
  
The only thing the officer could see was this child's dark shadow now lying before him, holes of light where eyes would be wide. He cursed under his breath before withdrawing a sharp pen-like object. "You're a damned mutant, aren't you." Tom quickly scrambled to his feet and didn't waste a second before he took off running, whole and physical once more.  
  
Christina sat in the back seat, watching terrified as she saw Tom change right before her. It didn't take long for the cop to slam the door to his car shut and immediately begin chasing Thomas down, speaking into a mic on his wrist calling for backup. With mutants you never knew what could happen, especially after the incident at the White House with a teleporter.  
  
Thomas just fled. He had no clue what any of that was about, what had just happened. No way was he going to be questioned for hours in another station while they contemplated what the hell they were going to do with him, though. He ran fearless into the dark street as a second cop car that had come to the call had swerved to keep from hitting him. Tom let out a cry as he halted, dropping to his knees and throwing his hands up over his head. Headlights flooded over his small form as brakes screeched, the first officer catching up with him and harshly grasping the child, yanking him to his feet. Tom squeaked and thrashed about as he felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, and it didn't take long before his entire world went black. 


	8. Chapter Seven

Boy had Thomas gotten into a lot of trouble when he arrived back at the adoption center. Mrs. Gillwen had yelled at him for a good two hours about how she was scared to death and how most of the world hated mutants and how this and how that. Even the officer decided that he would get a point or two in about how a couple of children should have known better. Unfortunately everything that they told young Thomas went in one ear and out the other. He just didn't care. And to top it off, most of the children were weary of him now that they knew he was 'different'.  
  
It had now been a little over half a year at that same building, the old children watching more couples arrive and more of their friends leave. Tom was now eight years old and though they had celebrated with cake and ice cream, he hadn't gotten any gifts save for a new outfit. None of the children ever really got anything for their birthdays; Mrs. Gillwen couldn't afford to get every child something expensive every time a birthday rolled around. Another Monday had come and gone, and Tom and Tina were both walking around aimlessly in the basement.  
  
"I am so beyond bored."  
  
Tina laughed as she pinned up a picture that she had drawn. It was of two taller people reching forward, both extending a key to a house perhaps. "I'd haveta agree with you there, Tommy." She jumped down from the chair, placing her hands into the pockets of her blue overalls. "But, ain't nothin' gunna ever change 'round here until we get adopted." She moved past Tom quickly, placing a light kiss on his cheek. "G'night, I'm goin' ta bed."  
  
Tom waved to her slightly as she climbed up the stairs, falling back into a bean bag with a tired yawn. There was no solution to this life; every decision was all up to the adults. He had tried to run away, but everyone knew that failed horribly. He said that he would never listen to anyone ever again, but ended up taking directions anyway. He had even once told Mrs. Gillwen that he was going to poison himself with some kind of chemical if she didn't let him get away once in a while, but that only resulted in her calling a Psychiatrist and long weekend conversations. He sighed as his fingers pulled out the clear plastic beads from a small hole in the bean bag one by one, thinking to himself.  
  
Mutants. Tom had heard that word uttered about him so many times he could tally them up on his wall and match the markings to every word in the dictionary. Okay, so maybe he was 'special'. What did everyone want him to do about it? It wasn't like he could just pour out his soul and have the gene fall out. Nobody could teach him how to deal with it either, everybody else in the house was what they liked to call 'normal'. He made a face as he leaned his head back, thumping it against the wall quietly. Well . . . the gene was in his blood. And if it was in his blood, maybe he could pour it out indeed. Tom stared blankly at the wall across the room as he moved up off the bean bag and made his way over towards the desk. His fingers wrapped around the small brass knob and pulled open the front drawer, pale lips smirking slightly when he spotted what he was looking for - a pair of scissors. Good thing they weren't those stupid safety kids scissors.  
  
At this point in time he wasn't thinking straight. Tom fell back into the bean bag with the blades open, testing the sharpness of the silver with his fingertips. When he felt a sharp prick he pulled the scissors away, watching as a small drop of crimson began to run down his index finger. He placed the lithe digit in between his teeth as he continued his emotionless gaze, cocking his head slightly. What a way to get his mind off of all his problems. . .  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
After another two weeks Christina had started to worry about Tom. He never wanted to do anything, and he rarely came downstairs save for when it was dinnertime and maybe for a few snacks now and then. Even Mrs. Gillwen was starting to wonder about him, questioning what he had found to occupy his time rather than play with the other kids. Of course Tom never told anybody what he was thinking, just said that he was up in his room writing poems. One day a fairly young couple had come to the door asking to take a look at the children, Mrs. Gillwen forcing Tom to come down the stairs even though he had braced himself on the banister and attempted to refrain from moving.  
  
He and Christina finally clambered down the last of the steps, falling into the empty slots on the couch. The adults were of course drawn to them since they were the last ones to arrive, and a bright smile crossed the woman's face.  
  
"Look, Peter! Older children. That's just what I came here looking for!"  
  
Peter didn't look interested, arching his brown brows as his wife excitedly tugged on his sleeve. "Why an older child, Marie?"  
  
She laughed slightly. "Think of it this way - you won't have to change any diapers. Besides, look at them. How old do you think they are? I'm sure few people would want to adopt children at that age."  
  
Well, she had a point. Mrs. Gillwen moved like a magnet towards them with stacks and stacks of paper work and that motor mouth flapping as they signed page after page. Apparently the couple was going to house both Tom and Tina, and Thomas had never seen Chrissy so excited before. She squealed with glee and took off up the stairs to her room to go and pack. With a shrug he followed not soon after, stuffing what little he owned into a backpack as well.  
  
After about an hour or so the kids had piled into the back of a blue mini-van, Peter climbing into the driver's seat and Marie in the passenger's side. She turned, grin wide and bright. "We've had a room set up for the longest time, we'll just put the extra bed in there and the both of you can share for now." She clapped her hands excitedly in front of her before continuing. "I'm so happy we found you guys! You can call me mom, but if you don't feel comfortable with that quite yet I'm Marie, and this is Peter." She pointed towards her husband as he pulled out of the parking lot.  
  
Well this was a loud family, Tom thought. At least he wasn't separated from Christina. He could still talk about kid-like things with her. Speaking of kids, "Marie?" Tom's quiet voice perked up from the back seat as he leaned forward to speak with her. She nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Are we going to go to school? A new school?"  
  
Another feminine giggle and a nod. "Of course, we just have to register the both of you. Oh, you're going to love your new life."  
  
And that was that. Out of one home and on to the next. One could only wonder what could possibly go wrong with starting over yet again. 


	9. Chapter Eight

This time he vowed to keep his mouth shut. Nobody at school knew that he was any different; the neighborhood thought that he was a nice kid, and his new 'parents' didn't think any differently of him. As long as he didn't mess up, this could actually be yet another start for Thomas.  
  
The bell rang at approximately 2:45 pm and the children of North banks Elementary School scurried out the door as though somebody had just offered free cookies down the road. Scuffing last out the door was Tina, but that was only because she had a semi-lazy Tom reluctantly dragging his feet behind her despite all the tugging she did to his sleeves which hung further over his hands than they probably needed to.  
  
"Come on, Tommy!"  
  
Thomas groaned as he stepped off the curb, making a slight face as he stumbled into a puddle. The weather in New York City sucked, he had come to that conclusion a while ago. "Chrissy, chill!" Really. They didn't have to start their homework or anything until four, and the bus got them home with plenty of time to play. Nothing but a giggle and yet another pull came from Christina however as they boarded the bright yellow school bus, falling into a seat near the front. That's what they got for getting on last.  
  
It had been about five weeks since they last saw the adoption center and Mrs. Gillwen. Not that Tom missed it at all, but Chrissy was a different story. She was always talking about the other children and how she missed their crazy personalities. Heck, she was always talking period. Girls never shut up. He sighed and rolled his eyes as Tina pointed at some freckled kid in the rear-view mirror, snickering about how she saw him drop all his books in the hallway earlier. Nodding and offering an 'Mhm' every now and then Tom somehow convinced her that he was indeed paying attention.  
  
The bus hissed to a stop on the outskirts of a nearby park, the doors sliding open to release the children. One good thing about getting on last - you got off first. When the duo started on their way down the street walking the few blocks towards their house, Tina poked a question out of nowhere. "Didja know that school's having this social thingy? It's kinda like a dance, I guess. A party, yeah. Anyhoo, it's gunna be this Friday. Wanna go?"  
  
Tom's dark hues glided from watching the cars pass by to stare blankly at his friend. A dance? Both those ebony brows arched as a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "No way."  
  
Now was Tina's turn to pout. "Awh, come on. It's not like ya have to dress nicely or anything." Tom shook his head and continued to walk along without glancing up. She sighed and swung a punch to his arm. "You're no fun."  
  
A laugh passed through his lips as he nearly stepped off the sidewalk from trying to dodge her hit. "I know. I thought you would have known this by now." He offered her a grin, before turning back to glance where their house was. "Look, Peter and Marie must've gone shopping or something, the car's gone."  
  
"Why don't you just call them mom and dad?" Crystalline blues worked their way over Tom's pale facial features, a slender brow arching as she questioned him.  
Tom paused. "Because they're not my parents." He shrugged, reaching forward to push open the front door. "It's as simple as that."  
  
Simple indeed. They dropped the subject as well as their book bags, scampering down the hallway towards the room that they both occupied for the time being.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
"Josh said that he wanted to play tag tomorrow after school. Should we?"  
It was now Wednesday, the sun high in the afternoon sky and the sound of Peter fixing his car floated through the thin walls. The faint smell of dinner also lingered, Marie must have started supper early today. Thomas lay sprawled out on his stomach, his homework packet before him and his eraser in his teeth.  
  
"I don't care."  
  
Tina bounded from her mattress across the room to fall upon the back of his legs, a quick 'ouch' escaping him as she did so. "I figured." Tom growled and wiggled in an attempt to free himself from being her seat.  
  
"Get off. I gotta finish my homework."  
  
Christy laughed and just ran a hand through his sloppily-kept hair. "But I'm bo-ored!"  
  
With a rough shove Tom turned, pushing her to the floor only to watch as she grasped at his blankets, which caused his packet to take a dive as well. His hands swung out to grab for the papers, but he failed and ended up tumbling off the bed himself, the both of them now seated on the floor in a heap of comforters and pillows. He glared and bounced his pencil off of her head. Tina only laughed, tucking her long hair behind an ear and scooting closer to Tom's form. He parted his lips to say something but before any sound came out, they were captured by the soft feel of Tina's. What great timing too.  
  
The door was suddenly creaked open as Marie decided that she would peek her head in. "Kids, what's with all the racket?" Her voice started out calm and inquisitive, but as soon as she laid eyes on the smooching children she went near hysterical. Her eyes went wide and Tom immediately pulled away from Tina, Chrissy moving fast to make their room look more organized. She was afraid that her mom was angry with the way their room looked. Marie scooped Thomas off the floor and pulled him to a standing position. "What on earth is going on in here?" Her eyes glanced from child to child, but upon getting no answer she again stated with more force. "What are you two doing?"  
  
Tom pulled his bangs out of his face and glanced towards Chrissy, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor staring up at Marie. "We were just-. . ." Before she could finish, Peter stuck his head in the doorway as well.  
  
"What's wrong, hon?"  
His wife turned to him, hands still gripping Tom's small shoulders. "What's wrong? Our children were just kissing each other, that's all. Nothing big." Spoken sarcastically, of course.  
  
Peter gawked. Nothing came to his mind at the moment, so rather than having the room fall into an awkward silence his wife took over. "Who the heck raised you? You can't go around kissing your siblings!"  
  
Well, that was a dumb question. Tom had been living here for more than a month, after all. Weren't they supposed to be raising him? He pried way from Marie's grasp to face the adults. "You did! And besides, she's not my sister!"  
  
Finally Peter had found his voice, and before Tom could mouth back anymore he bellowed. "You're living under the same roof with the same parents. I don't care if you're blood related or not, she is your sister!"  
  
Lots and lots of yelling then occurred. Chrissy was attempting to convince her parents that it was just a peck, much like a goodnight kiss. Marie was keeping Tom a good distance away from her daughter and her husband, and Peter and Tom were left seeing who could out argue one another.  
  
"Next thing you know you'd be raping her!"  
  
Thomas hesitated, being an actual victim of such a thing. And they had no idea. He raised his arms, perhaps a signal of giving up? "You know what?" He hissed. "Fuck you!"  
  
Marie's eyes widened as she moved towards him. Chrissy just stared slack-jawed and silent at the other members of her family. "I will not have that kind of language in my house!" Her mom demanded.  
  
Peter on the other hand almost hit Tom for that little remark. "Shut up and have a se-!" He started.  
  
Thomas was done. As Marie came closer he narrowed his dark eyes, and in one fluid motion he sunk into the ground, disappearing into his own shadow which was soon lost with all of the other shapes in the bedroom.  
  
Marie screamed. 


End file.
